He doesn’t kiss me. But he does lean down, ensnare my bottom lip between his teeth, and bite down hard enough to draw blood.
I cry out in pain. Laughing, he steps back and looks me up and down with venomous eyes, my blood slicking his chin.
“Would you like to see Phoenix?” he asks me. “He’ll love that black eye and bloody lip of yours. It goes quite well with your complexion.”
“f**k you,” I snarl. If there were ever a time to start swearing, it’s now. “Phoenix will kill you.”
He smiles thinly. “Do you get wet for him?” he ponders.
My face twists into a grimace. “You’re disgusting. You make me sick.”
“Do I?” he asks dangerously. He lunges towards me and presses his palm against my windpipe. “Be careful, little girl. I don’t tolerate back-talk from my whores.”
I can’t draw in enough a
